


Beat of a Bat's Heart

by KillerLadybug



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, F/M, Female Clark Kent, Genderbending, Panic Attacks, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerLadybug/pseuds/KillerLadybug
Summary: Superwoman can hear heartbeats from the other side of the world. What happens when one suddenly stops?





	Beat of a Bat's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting to Archive. Tagging is hard. Leave comments and critiques if you feel so compelled. I don't own any of the characters.

Clarke flopped onto her bed. There had been an attempted shooting at the Daily Planet. She had been forced to help from the sidelines this time since the shooter had hold up in the bullpen with her and thirty other people including Perry, Jimmy, and Lois. Batman and Robin had saved the day in the end with the help of Clarke feeding them information from her earbud. Batman had made all the JL members carry one at all times. The situation had taken four hours to come to an end. Batman had delivered the gunmen to the authorities and Damian had released the hostages. He had made a show of how easy it was to cut through the bindings around Clarke’s wrist. Clarke had smiled at the boy and given him breathy thanks with a wink. He had tsked in response but Clarke saw his cheeks color slightly so perhaps he was finally warming up to her. Clarke had been more than a little fed up with the event and more than ready to go home when Perry had announced that despite the ‘interruption’ their stories were still due. 

Clarke dragged her fingers over the material of her suit and felt it melt off her body. It reformed into her medallion and she tossed it onto her nightstand. A small mercy was that she only wore panties under the suit and wouldn’t have to fight her way out of a bra. She tugged on her sleeping t-shirt, left on the bed from that morning, but couldn’t be bothered with the accompanying bottoms.  
She hadn’t gotten home till after one and then patrol had kept her out until three with four robberies, one attempted rape, two carjackings, and another holdup. Clarke groaned. She had to be up at six to start it all over again. A small smile pulled at her tired lips. At least there was one thing to look forward to despite the early morning.

Clarke was a creature of habit. Growing up on the farm she would rise with the sun, do her chores, go to school, hang out with friends, and fight the kryptonite freak of the week. When she grew up she would still fly home to do chores but school became work and freak-of-the-week became regular patrolling. Her nights rarely followed any form of pattern besides constant danger and some lunatic trying to take over the world again. Luther really needed a new hobby.

But her morning routine was one of her favorites. When the world wasn’t ending she would wake up around six a.m., grab a shower, soak up the sunrise, have a bagel and coffee while reading the paper, and then beat Lois to the bullpen just to irritate her and avoid pissing off Perry. 

But none of those things were why she loved early mornings. Her favorite part came before she even crawled out of bed to face the day. On mornings that didn’t start with global catastrophe, she would lie still in her bed and just listen to the noises of the world. Birds calling in Africa, traffic lights changing in Japan, a tea kettle whistling in Britain, rain in Brazil, but her favorite sounds were heartbeats.   
She would close her eyes and pick out the heartbeats of her loved ones. Her mother’s heart as she started her own morning routine, one Clarke had listened to since childhood. Lois’ as she grumbled and pawed at the alarm she ignored every morning. Dick’s as he trudged to bed after a shift at the department or patrol as Nightwing. Tim’s as his body finally crashed from obscene amounts of caffeine and Kon’s as he rolled over to wrap around Tim. Jason as he cleaned his guns, kept awake by nightmares. Kara’s as she finished a term paper or blasted a meteor. Alfred’s as he started his morning tea and began preparing breakfast for a hungry household. Even Damian’s as he curled up with Titus and Pennyworth. Clarke had failed to keep a straight face when she had learned the cat’s name and almost lost the privilege of Alfred’s special pancakes as a result. The disgruntled butler had taken pity on her and restored said privileges after Damian mentioned a hamster that may end up with her own namesake. She still hadn’t figured out if that was a threat or a good thing. One rarely knew with the youngest Wayne. 

The last heartbeat she listened for was the one that she loved the most to listen to. It was strong and beat with purpose. It was the same one she would listen for when stress from work caught up to her or a villain was being overly vexing. She listened for the rhythm in the heat of battle as well, to check that it was still there. A continuous drumming tucked away in the back of her mind.   
It was also the heartbeat that she would get in serious shit for if the owner ever found out she listened to it. 

Clarke grinned. Batman would have her head if he knew. Especially if he knew she could use it to find him at any time. Sure, he had seen her use her hearing to locate the heartbeats of people trapped in fallen buildings. But she doubted that he had figured out how prolific her use of this power was or the distance at which she could hear. A girl has to have some secrets; even if it is borderline impossible since her best friend is the world’s greatest detective. And extremely paranoid.

Clarke let her eyes flutter shut and listened. The sound of traffic fell away and the rhythm filled her ears. He was fighting someone; his heartbeat was quicker and thumped loudly in his chest. It slowed soon after so it must not have been one of the big name villains then, probably just some mugger who picked the wrong city to live in. She considered staying awake until he returned home for the night, but she decided that would invade his privacy too much. She only did that on nights when she nearly lost him. She didn’t like to think about those nights. Clarke rolled over and let the sound of Bruce’s heart lull her to sleep. 

She eye snapped open. Something was wrong. She bolted up in bed as her mind was ripped from a peaceful slumber. Something was very wrong. She started ticking off her list. She quickly x-rayed her apartment and the rest of her building. Nothing. Her comm. wasn’t chirping and rested silently on her nightstand. Not the Justice League then. She tilted her head to listen for anything her eyes may have missed. Again nothing.

What the hell had woken her?

She listened for her mother’s heartbeat, then Kon’s and Kara’s, the Robins’, Lois’ Alfred’s, Bru-

“No.” She breathed. Clarke listened harder, searching the planet in seconds. Nothing.

The drumming was gone. 

The rhythm was gone.

Bruce’s heartbeat was gone. 

She threw herself out of bed and tore out her window. The bed was crushed and the window shattered around her but she didn’t give it a second thought. She raced to Gotham, the world going silent as she broke the sound barrier. He had to be there. 

The dark city enfolded her and the storm clouds rumbled. She x-rayed the city but no flicker of cape caught her eye and no glare of disapproval looked up at her from his perch atop a grotesque gargoyle. She needed a ground view. 

Rain drenched her as she skidded to a stop in the main square. The streets were deserted and murky water pooled around her feet. Her eyes tore through every wall in the city but there was too much lead left in the old, crumbling buildings. She took off again as the freezing rain bit into her skin. It was nothing to her. Bruce was everything.

She searched every crevasse of the city, every sewer, and skyscraper. She even took a trip to Arkham. All that should be there were. The clown prince was asleep in his bed. She hated his heartbeat. It was like his laugh, it beat wildly and out of pace. She hoped he rotted in that cell. 

She had been off-world when Jason had died. The news of the Robin’s death had devastated her. She had been there for all the Robins, meeting up with the duo shortly after Dick had donned the mantle. Jason had been the first she was there for from beginning to end. When word had reached her that Jason had died and that Barbra was paralyzed, she hadn’t been able to believe it. She had flown to check and found Alfred in the kitchen. He had stood there while the bread in the oven burned and the pot on the stove boiled over. She didn’t ask him what happened. The tear streaks down the stoic man’s face confirmed the tragedy and her heart had broken. Clarke had gone to Jason’s room and stood in the middle of the floor. There was his bed still rumpled, his clothes on the floor, and his laptop sat on the desk that had his initials carved in the bottom. She could almost hear him give an exasperated sigh and tell her to knock for the millionth time. ‘I could have been doing anything in here!’ he would gripe. ‘Super-hearing, remember?’ he had turn red as a tomato at that. A bitter laugh caught in her throat, strangled out by a sob.

She heard Bruce come in after her. “How?” Her voice was broken and her eye was drawn to a teddy bear on the bed. An oddity in an angsty teenager’s room. Jason had gone to a fair in Smallville with her as a treat. He had complained the entire time before finally taking interest in the game booths. She had won him that bear at the ring toss. He had blushed when she had presented it to him with a flourish and a bow. An identical bear sat on her own bed at home. He had won it at the shooting gallery. They had ended the day with the fireworks finale and then homemade pie at the farm. 

“I wasn’t there in time.” Bruce’s voice was hollow and broken. 

“How?” Her voice was barely a whisper but she knew he heard her. She walked to the bed and gently lifted the bear. It was made from cheap material, like most carnival toys, but there were thick sloppy stitches in various places where every rip had been studiously repaired. The lump in her throat choked her. “Please.”

“Crowbar and then a bomb in an abandoned warehouse. Barbra was shot soon after.” Rao, Barbra. She was in a coma at Gotham General and the doctors were saying that she may never walk again, but they would need to wait until she woke up to tell the extent of the damage. Dick hadn’t left her side apart from the funeral. She hadn’t even been here for the funeral.

“You didn’t kill him.” She had heard about the condition Batman had left the Joker. Maybe she was talking about Jason. Rao, she didn’t know anymore.

“It was what he wanted. It was what I wanted. God, I wanted to. I wanted to kill him for what he did.” Clarke looked up at her friend. His face was wet and she could see that he had no walls left to hide behind. This was the eight-year-old boy who had lost his parents in an alley and then had grown into a man who had lost his son. Clarke reached out a hand and pulled him to her. He came without hesitation. His arms wrapped around her with crushing strength. His face buried in her neck as the sobs came.

“I failed him. I failed him. If I had kept him away from this, if I hadn’t let him be Robin-” His voice broke and she felt his body start to give out from grief. She lowered them both to the floor, their backs resting against the bed.

“No one ever let Jason do anything. Barbra either. She is going to be fine. She’s too stubborn for anything else. ” Bruce’s tears rolled hot over her collarbone. The teddy bear was squished between them.   
“I should have been there.” It was muffled into her shoulder.

“So should I.” Bruce pulled back and looked at her in confusion. “If you are at fault for not being there then so am I. If I hadn’t taken the peace mission off-world, I would have been here. But we didn’t know, we couldn’t know. And as much as we hate ourselves for that, we can’t change it. You lost your son Bruce and it wasn’t your fault. The only blame lies with the monster that killed him.” The end was firm and final as the tears finally escaped. Bruce pulled her to him as they cried. 

They had fallen asleep in Jason’s room. Clarke had only awoken once when Alfred had come in to drop a blanket over them. Clarke had gripped his hand gently before he could pull away. The butler gave her a sad smile. They would make it. But they would never be whole again. Any of them. 

Before she left the following day Bruce pressed the teddy bear into her hands. “He would want you to have it.” To this day it sat with her own on her bed. A piece of Jason the Joker could never take from her. She feared the day she ran into him again. She didn’t know what she would do. But she knew what she wanted to. What she had done. 

It was after several months that the Joker finally healed enough to try another heist and made a near fatal mistake. He knew he had failed to break the Bat when he killed Jason. But there was a new level of tension between them so he had decided to hide his base of operation the one place the Bat wouldn’t look. Metropolis. Clarke had heard the heartbeat from her desk at the Daily Planet. After Jason’s death she routinely checked on the mad clown, and if Batman had a problem with that he could bite her. She wasn’t losing anyone else to that lunatic. 

She hadn’t even paused, running to the roof of the Daily Planet and taking off. She found him in a warehouse at the docks. With several pounds of C-4. A bomb. She stared at the crate. He was making a bomb. Her mind was filled with Jason’s proud smiling face when he had won her bear.

The clown had seen her then.

“Well, if it isn’t Princess Primary Colors!” He opened his arms in welcome with a curtsy. Like he hadn’t killed Jason. “To what do I owe this profound honor?” Clarke clenched her fist until her nails bit through her skin and blood trickled around her fingers. She should call Batman. Joker was his villain. But this was her city and Jason may not have been her son, but he was Bruce’s, and the Robins were the damn closest thing she had to her own.

She could see Harley out of the corner of her eye. The woman was sneaking up behind her with her hyenas but there was no kryptonite in the warehouse. She turned slightly and looked the smaller woman in the eye. Harley had frozen then. Whatever she had seen in the aliens face, she started to back away. 

“Mistah J? I-I think we should g-go.” The hyenas rolled over onto their backs briefly before tugging at their mistress’s sleeves, trying to pull her away. 

“What? But the fun is just beginning! Look I even brought my favorite toy.” The Joker reached behind him and pulled out a crowbar. “My swing is getting better. But then I have had some practice recently.”  
“Were you there?” Superwoman asked the female clown, she didn’t need to specify what she meant. Harley’s eyes when wide with fear.

“No, I-I was still in Arkham. P-Puddin had-hadn’t sprung me y-yet. Ri-Right?” She wasn’t lying. 

“Good.” Clarke had always liked the spritely young woman. She hadn’t thought she had been a part of Jason’s murder. “But I can’t have you getting in the way.” Clarke wrapped her hand around the woman’s neck and squeezed. The doctor fainted from the blood choke and Clarke dropped her to the ground.

“That wasn’t very nice. Batsy always at least lets her get one hit in.” He swung the crowbar as if hitting a home run. 

“That’s the problem, clown.” She walked up to him. “I’m not Batman,” he swung at her and she grabbed the crowbar, “this isn’t Gotham,” the metal warped under her grip, “and I have been waiting a very long time for this.” She yanked the crowbar from his hand. It wasn’t the same one. That crowbar was resting in a vault in the cave. One more memento for Batman to torture himself with.

She spun the crowbar expertly in her grasp.

“Now, Superwoman, beating an unarmed clown with a crowbar. What would the world think of that?” Clarke had never enjoyed fear in a person’s voice. But the note of panic from the Clown gave her a sick sense of satisfaction.

“You’re right.” Her tone was flat. She felt the familiar burning behind her eyes caused by rage.

“I am? I mean, of course I am!” The Clown Prince held his hands out pleadingly. 

“I don’t need a crowbar to hurt you.” She let the crowbar clatter to the cement floor. The perpetual smile slid off the freak’s face. 

“You can’t kill me! You’re Superwoman!” His voice squeaked as her left hand gripped his purple jacket and dangled him off the floor.

“I am not going to kill you.” The clown relaxed in her grip with a sigh of relief. “But that is the problem with you cowards.” She wrapped her free hand around his gloved one, clenching it in her fist. “You think the worst thing that I can do is kill you.” She felt the bones begin to shatter under her grip. “When I can do so much worse.”

She flew him to Arkham herself afterward. Bruce may have broken every bone in the Joker’s body, but she had nearly reduced them to powder. His precious teeth were chipped or missing and there was not a patch of skin without a bruise. The clown wailed for help the moment they landed and it came out a sickening gurgle, his eyes filled with terror. Clarke wished that she didn’t feel better for seeing it, that she was above revenge. 

She wasn’t. 

She could see Batman watching as the staff tried to figure out how to get the clown on the stretcher without harming him further. She could see the moment Batman realized what was wrapped around the Joker’s crushed hands and wrists. The metal of the crowbar was warped but still recognizable. Blood stained it from where the ends stabbed into his arms. Batman turned to look at her. 

“I didn’t kill him.” She felt like a rabid dog waiting for their owner to shoot them or perhaps like an angel found wanting before God. “And stop putting me on that fucking pedestal.” But for once she didn’t see judgment in his eyes. There was understanding. She hated it. They were supposed to be better than this. Batman was supposed to yell at her for shit like this. But as she looked into his eyes, she felt for the first time like they might make it through. 

Then Jason was alive again. It should have been one of the best moments of her life when Batman told her the news. But the second Robin had come back a killer with a grudge and an alarming capability with firearms. Clarke hadn’t had the opportunity to rebuild their relationship. Jason was too angry, even Alfred could barely get through to the boy, and she didn’t even know where to start. She didn’t know if the young boy she had loved was still in there. She thought about it every night before bed when she would pull the bears to her chest. 

And now she was losing her best friend.

She still she couldn’t find him. Her heart clenched. He couldn’t be… If there was anyone in the JL that seemed immortal it was her best friend. The Dark Knight of Gotham had taken down gods and monsters with little more than his will and dedication. He couldn’t just be…gone. 

There was only one thing to do. The thing all the Bat-children and original JL members knew to do when all hope seems lost. 

Find Alfred.

She took off for the manor, slamming into a gargoyle and being nearly blinded by the pounding rain.

The rain had quickly turned to sleet and hail, bouncing off her skin and soaking her to the bone, but Wayne Manor was soon in sight. It had seemed dark and intimidating the first time she had visited before it had grown to mean a place of love and family for her. Now it looked like an empty tomb.

She slammed open the doors of the mansion without bothering to land. It had been five minutes since the heartbeat had stopped. Too slow, too slow, Bruce would be facing brain damage.   
“ALFRED!” She hadn’t meant to scream but her voice was tense and shrill with panic. She heard the sound of thundering footsteps as the older man came around the front hall corner wielding a machine gun and wearing blue striped pajamas, a nightcap, and house slippers. His eyes were sharp but quickly turned to confusion at the lack of an enemy.

“Ms. Kent what in the world is-"

She landed in front of the startled butler and gripped his arms tightly. 

“Alfred somethings wrong, Bruce- I- I can’t-Rao help me. Alfred, something has happened to Bruce. I-I don’t know what but something is wrong.” She could feel her body shaking as badly as her voice. Rao, how was she going to explain to this man that his son might be-. Bile burned the back of her throat.

“Ms. Kent, I assure you,” his voice was steady and calm. “Master Bruce is fine. He is capable of taking care of himself,” his eyes, however, looked at her with concern.

“Dammit, Alfred, something has happened to him!” Her grip on his arms tightened. 

“Ms. Kent, I-“

“Why won’t you believe me?!” She noticed a wince and yanked her hands from his arms. She did not need to look to know she had left bruises. Tumbling backward from the momentum, she landed on her knees. She stared up at the man who had been so kind to her. “Please, Alfred, I am begging you, something is wrong. I can’t-I can’t-Alfred, please!” She could feel her throat closing up. He had to believe her. He had too.

“Alfred?” The voice was confused and apprehensive. 

And not possible.

She knew that voice, it had called her friend just as easily as it had called her an idiot. Her head whipped around. Standing at the entrance to the hall leading to the Batcave was “Bruce?” Her voice rasped.   
It couldn’t be. 

“Clarke? What the hell is going on?” Bruce took a step towards her.

It wasn’t.

While the image of Bruce took a step forward nothing else did. The floorboards didn’t creak, the carpet didn’t shift, the muscles in his body didn’t slide against one another, and the air didn’t stir with his breathing. His heart didn’t beat. 

This was not Bruce. 

The image flickered as if he were a ghost vanishing from sight. 

It was an imposter. It had to be. 

It had been ten minutes. There was a small chance left to find Bruce in time; Batman had survived impossible odds before.

Clarke lunged. She slammed into the figure, sending them tumbling into the far wall. Her hand wrapped around the intruder’s neck as she pinned him there. She could hear Alfred shouting at her but she ignored him. 

“Who are you?” She snarled. The man wheezed for air but her hand clenched tighter till she could feel the bones in the thing’s neck start to creak. “Where is Bruce? What have you done with him?” 

“I am Br-..”She slammed him into the wall again. 

“Liar!” She yelled at him. “Where. Is. He?” She could feel her eyes begin to glow and the world was bleeding to a bright ruby red. She had promised Bruce that she would not kill, that she would never kill, not to avenge his death. Perhaps she had lied that day. “You don’t want to find out what will happen if you make me ask again.” The wall beside his head caught fire. “TELL. ME!” The thing clawed at her arms as its feet kicked uselessly at her side. Its face was rapidly turning blue. Its voice was croaking as it finally tried to make out a word.

But it had been fifteen minutes now. The chances of finding Bruce alive had slipped away. Bruce had slipped away. She had failed. She could feel her hands itching to close the rest of the way, to watch this thing die. Her hands tensed. But she needed Bruce’s body, Alfred and Bruce’s sons deserved that much. She relaxed her hands and the thing wheezed for breath.

“R-” the thing muttered. It took all her strength to open her hands enough to let it speak. “Ryan.”

Clarke’s hand loosened. She had told Bruce about her almost brother and his name had become a safe word, something only known to the two of them. Clarke’s was Thaddeus. 

The thing lunged for a button on its chest and the suit made a whirring noise. 

And there it was.

The drumming was back, thready from her own hands but strong as ever.

“MASTER BRUCE!” A hunk of glowing green rock landed at her feet. Bruce cracked his forehead against her nose with a sickening crunch before slamming both his feet into her chest, sending her backwards into the coffee table. It splintered under her. She felt blood run down her face and dribble onto the carpet but she could already feel it healing, sluggish from the presence of the kryptonite.   
He was alive. Bruce was “Alive.” She murmured to the ceiling. She slowly sat up to see Bruce dropped in a guarded stance and ready for another attack. Behind him, Alfred stood with a gun in hand. He must have thrown the kryptonite, she thought. It wasn’t the machinegun from before but a small pistol. Clarke knew there was only one bullet inside it. Alfred was an excellent shot and one green bullet was all that would be needed. Beside him stood the Robins, past and present. Dick looked as if he was approaching a wild animal. He had known her the longest and was a good friend. Jason’s hand rested on one of his guns but she could see it tremble. He had always looked up to her when he was Robin even if she didn’t know how he felt about their relationship after his resurrection. Tim was holding a small computer and was scanning the room. But she could hear his fingers tapping the back key every few seconds, his steady hands fumbling over the familiar device. Damian had his sword and was braced in a fighting stance. His eyes were trained on her. She was a threat to his family and he would defend them. She hadn’t known Damian very long. But he was dear to her. Just like his father. Why were they here? Her mind was reeling. Dinner. They had stayed the night after a case and were having dinner this coming evening. A dinner she had been invited to.

“Clarke.” Bruce’s voice dragged her attention back to him. One of his hands was outstretched and the other was held open placating. 

“How?” The word came out a broken sob. She couldn’t believe it. He was here. He was fine. 

She rose up to her knees and the room resounded with the sound of a sword leaving its sheath. 

It only hit her then what had happened. What this must look like.

She was in the grand foyer of Wayne Manor, soaked to the bone in a t-shirt and panties, with mud on her feet, blood on her face, and smelling like the sewers she had frantically searched. She had babbled hysterically at Alfred, attacked Bruce, and terrified his children. And now she was kneeling in the remains of a coffee table that probably cost more than she made in a decade, dripping blood on the Persian rug. The adrenaline and the panic and relief hit her all at once and she started to laugh hysterically. She couldn’t help it. 

The room grew even tenser. Laughter meant nothing good in this house. 

“I-I-” She put a hand to her forehead and struggled to her feet. Her voice still huffing with tired laughter.

“Clarke, you need to stay still. I can help you, but I need you to tell me what is wrong.” It was the tone she had heard him use on victims. Calm, steady, firm, and comforting.

“Nothing.” The laughter strangled out into crackling hiccups.

“What?” His hand twitched and she could see Alfred moving slowly towards the kryptonite rock. Distract the victim and take them down before they can hurt themselves or others. She had done this with Batman a million times.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Her eyes started to heat up again, tears rolled down her cheeks. The hiccups turned to open sobbing. “I n- need.” Her voice gave out. Rao, what was she doing? She was now half dressed, bawling her eyes out in front of Batman while his butler got into position to subdue her and his kids covered the exits. 

What the hell had she done? 

Why the hell couldn’t she hear him?

Was something wrong with her powers? 

She needed to get out of here. If something was wrong with her powers, if she was losing control, she could hurt them. Kill them.

With tears still streaming she ran for the front door still gaping open. Alfred was many things, medical doctor, actor, cook, but he wasn’t faster than a Kryptonian. She made it out the door before the kryptonite could do more than cause a flicker of discomfort. Bruce’s voice thundered after her but she had to get away. 

She shot past the storm clouds and out into space. She couldn’t go to Ma’s, she might hurt her. If she went to the Watchtower she faced the same problem. The Fortress would be the first place Bruce would look. He was probably contacting the JL to start looking for her right now. Her apartment was out for the same reason. She winced as she thought of her broken bed and shattered window from her take off. She wasn’t going to get her safety deposit back. 

She flew until she landed on the far side of the moon. She sat among the rocks and the dust and wept.

Three days later she left the Moon and headed to a deserted island, the same one she had hidden Volcana on for a time. The sand was warm under her feet and the sun filled her to bursting with energy. The waves lapped at her toes and a small crab scurried past. 

“I was wondering when you would show up here.” Clarke felt a smile tug at her lips.

“How did you find me?” She should have figured he would be the one to find her.

“Only place that made sense to me. Sun, sand, and surf, the best place to think.” She felt a tired smile stretch across her face.

“Is the whole League looking for me?” It was a stupid question. She had to make sure she would know if there was an emergency, so she had listened. She had heard them making plans about how to find her and what might be wrong. It was how she knew nothing was wrong with her. Bruce had run tests on some of the blood she had left on his carpet and it had come up clean. She was healthy, no mutations in her genes like the ones that appeared before a new power was added to her repertoire. And no degeneration either. There was nothing wrong with Clarke Kent or Superwoman.

“Red alert for three days. Why did you run?”

“I thought I was losing control. I needed to think, to see if I was right.” Clarke could feel the gaze resting heavy on her. “How angry is he?” Clarke turned to face her friend.

“Compared to how he usually is? I would say that this has been the first time I have seen the Dark Knight frantic. He hasn’t slept, he hasn’t eaten, and he has had everyone looking everywhere for you. He told us what happened from his point of view. Do you remember what happened?”

“Of course I remember. I just don’t understand what happened.” She buried her face in her hands. Her hair was frazzled from the number of times her fingers had gripped its roots.

“What did happen, Blue?” The scarlet speedster plopped down next to her.

“I-I was listening to his heartbeat.” She peeked through her fingers at him. The first person she had seen in three days.

“You what? Dude! He would flip his shit if he knew you were listening to him!” Barry’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.

“I know!” She snapped. “I was listening before I went to bed and then something woke me up. I realized it was because I couldn’t hear it anymore.” She threw her hands out exasperated. 

“So?” He lowered his mask to raise an eyebrow at her.

“So, I have been on away missions to other planets and still been able to hear it if I needed too.” She admitted guiltily. 

“Holy shit.” He breathed.

“Yeah. When I couldn’t hear it I panicked, I searched all of Gotham.” She stuck her still grimy feet into the surf. There wasn’t really a way to wash off grim on the moon. 

“I know, Bats has more cameras around that city than a reality TV show. Nice, undies by the way. Marvel though, really? You are seriously a geek, Blue.” Clarke huffed out a laugh. 

“They’re comfortable. I guess you don’t need me to explain what happened after that then. It was weird, I could see him but it was fuzzy and I couldn’t hear him at all.” She shuddered at the memory of her friend’s throat under her grip. 

“Yep, saw the whole thing on BatTV. Even if the new- Wait, when did you say you couldn’t hear him anymore?” Barry cocked his head and she was briefly reminded of a confused puppy. 

“Um, the sun wasn’t up yet but Bruce was home so it had to have been about 5 am, I think?” For someone with an eidetic memory, the night was more of a blur than Clarke was used to. 

“Hold on.” Flash turned on his comm. “Batman, you there? I need some info. That stealth suit you told me about, the one I helped you with? Were you trying it out the morning Clarke atta-” He glanced at Clarke, “majorly freaked out?”

“Yes. It was the first trial run with the suit and the reason I didn’t have my utility belt on. Why?” The answer was gruff and Clarke could hear how tired her friend was.

“What time did you turn it on?” Barry asked, continuing to ignore his question. A dangerous thing to do to Batman.

“5:05 a.m..” The voice growled. “W-” Barry turned off the comm. Apparently, Barry was feeling suicidal. 

“I think I know what happened.” He turned to Clarke. “Batman mentioned integrating some alien tech with a new stealth suit that would make it harder to see, except that same tech also had a sound dampener. When I was first helping Batman install it, I thought the main component of the tech was the cloaking device but what if it was primarily a dampener and the cloaking was the secondary? That would explain why it was still slightly visible but completely silent. When he turned on the suit I think it dampened his heartbeat enough that you couldn’t hear it.”

“Or any other signs of life.” She had nearly killed her best friend. 

The Flash’s comm. chirped. 

“Why are you on an island? You need to be out looking for Superwoman. She could be in danger or be a danger to herself and/or others.” Clarke flinched. Barry gave her a concerned look before responding. 

“Relax, Bats, she’s right next to me.” Barry gave her a smile and Clarke could practically hear Batman grinding his teeth. “Turns out, this was all a misunderstanding. You can call off the bloodhounds.” 

“Put her on the comm..” Flash winced at the tone and handed over the comm. with a sympathetic grin. 

“Superwoman.” She tried for a strong voice but it came out tired and breathy. Had it really only been three days?

“Superwoman, you need to return to the Watchtower immediately for debriefing and medical attention.” Clarke felt her eyes flutter closed. It wasn’t much, but she had missed his voice even when he was being curt with her. The phantom pain flickered in her chest. She had almost lost him. Thought she had lost him. 

“Batman, I don’t think that you are going to find anything wrong with me. You didn’t find anything in my blood. I’m fine.” She could actually hear his teeth grind this time as he realized she had been eavesdropping on the tower. 

“Get back here. Now.” His growl left no room for argument.

“Uh…that may be a problem.” Clarke turned to look at Barry but his gaze was locked on the horizon. Clarke could hear the alarm blaring on the Watchtower as her gaze followed Barry’s. There, coming out of the water, was a warship of some kind, sleek and black in the sunlight. Black Manta if she had to guess.

“We’re gonna need back up.” She barked before hanging up. She was about to take to the sky before realizing she was still in her underwear. She sighed. A tap on her shoulder and she turned to see Barry holding up her suit. 

“I figured you might need this. No reason to give the baddie a free show.” He shrugged.

The resulting fight was vicious but ended quickly. Manta had apparently raised an army of some ancient undersea monsters that had a bone to pick with Atlantis. The fact that all of Superwoman’s teammates, except for Barry, were all trying to gauge her sanity while in the middle of a fight wasn’t helping. Diana was always at her side and Hal never left her six unless Barry needed back up. Batman was up in the Batplane for the duration of the over ocean battle. Finally, they won the day and the remains of the beasts sunk to the ocean floor. 

Clarke turned to head home when the Batplane flew in front of her. The hatch popped open and Batman’s voice crackled over the comms. “Get in.”

“I can fly.” Needless to point out since she was currently hovering over the Atlantic. 

“And I don’t want to have to hunt you down when you decide to dodge me.” She almost flew away, but the sun was bright and her eye caught on a shadow on the corner of his jaw. Her eyes flickered as her x-ray vision kicked in and she could see him then. The scars that marred his chest and the bags under his eyes fueled by caffeine and his worry for her. But her main focus was the massive bruise that was healing on his neck. It had been reduced to purple, green, and yellow splotches now under Alfred’s tender care and near miracle cures. But she could still see it as it had been right after she gave it to him. A black and blue imprint of her hand on his throat. She wasn’t ready for this. 

“I don’t need to dodge you.” Clarke flew over to the open hatch and lowered herself into the seat. She wasn’t surprised to feel the effect of kryptonite nor for the handcuffed that pinned her arms to the seat. “I would say that I won’t hurt you, but I don’t think you would believe me.” She said settling back in the seat for the long flight back to Gotham. 

“You’re a flight risk, not a threat.” He growled and they started moving. 

“Which one of us are you trying to convince of that?” She muttered, taking note of his body tensing. 

The remainder of the flight was silent as Clarke watched the clouds roll by. How the hell was she going to explain this? Her eyes fluttered for a moment before closing. She didn’t need sleep but the subtle drain of the kryptonite dragged her down into sleep.

She awoke as the familiar sight of the Batcave consumed them and the engines roared to a stop. The top hatch popped open and Alfred was standing at attention. 

“You found her.” Alfred had a tone of relief in his voice that surprised Clarke. Surely Bruce had contacted Alfred and let him know of her capture. “Ms. Kent at you feeling alright?” She gave a bitter laugh.  
“Isn’t that my line?” Her gaze lingered on his arm where she had gripped it. 

“You overestimate yourself, Ms. Kent, I suffered much worse during the war.” He offered her his hand before noticing the restraints. “Surely these aren’t necessary Master Bruce?” 

“That depends on our guest.” He flipped a switch and the cuffs retracted into the armrests. 

Clarke rubbed her wrists more out of habit than anything as she stepped out of the plane, taking the hand Alfred offered her. “I owe you an explanation.” She took a deep breath but Bruce raised a hand. 

“Alfred, take Ms. Kent upstairs and provide her a change of clothes before taking her to the first-floor library.” Alfred nodded and shooed her up the stairs. 

Her personal guest room was the only one with a sense of being lived in. There was an old quilt, a case of her favorite books, and an old rocking chair. She felt so out of place it hurt. 

“I think that an evening such as we are about to endure requires comfort and ease of movement.” She startled as Alfred materialized in front of her with plaid sleep pants and a matching button down. “How can you give me such care after what I did?” She muttered taking the clothes.

“I saw your face when you realized it was really Master Bruce.” He gave her a warm smile. “I will wait outside to take you to the library.” He shut the door behind him with a small click. 

She rushed through the shower as best she could. The soap felt heavenly on her skin as the grim swirled down the drain. She raked shampoo and conditioner through her hair until the snarls were gone. And of course, the towels were sinfully soft. Changing quickly, she had to rebutton her shirt twice before finally being presentable. 

She opened the door to find Alfred glaring at Damian holding his katana high over his head. “That is quite enough out of you, young man.”

“I can’t believe Father let that thing in this house.” Clarke flinched and the doorknob gave a loud groan of protest. Alfred jumped slightly and Damian turned to glare. 

“You will apologize to Ms. Kent immediately.” Alfred glared down at the Wayne heir. 

“I will not.” Damian’s eyes never left Clarke.

“I thought your Father taught you better. Always get both sides of the story, you never know the whole truth.” Alfred huffed. “Now apologize or no dessert for a week.”

“I survived weeks without food, you really think that is much of a threat, Pennyworth?” the boy raised his chin in defiance. 

“Do it or Batcow becomes burgers.” Alfred crossed his arms.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Damian growled. It honestly freaks Clarke out just how much Damian is like his father. 

“Try me.” The aging man raised his chin and stared down the small green-eyed copy of Bruce.

“I’m sorry.” Damian’s gaze snapped to her. “I have a lot to explain Damian, and,” she ran a hand through her hair taking a moment to breathe, “I will, if you give me a chance. But I must have scared you the other night. I did not mean too.” Damian tsked and turned away. Alfred puffed himself up for a reprimand but Clarke shook her head at him. She had heard Damian’s nearly silent mumble. 

The walk to the library was a silent one with Alfred leading and Damian dogging her every step. Soon enough the double doors loomed in front of her. The library doors opened silently to reveal Bruce staring into the roaring fireplace while Dick balanced on the back of the couch with a bowl of cereal, Tim lounged on the couch playing Pokémon Go, and Jason sitting next to Tim as he cleaned his knives on the coffee table. Bruce never let Jason clean his guns in the manor. She stepped into the room. Damian brushed past her to plop down on the couch, on which Dick was perched, and stretched out so the only available seating was an armchair well away from the Batfamily. She sat gently in the old chair and waited for Bruce to start the interrogation. 

She didn’t have to wait long. 

“What happened?” Not his most direct question. “Barry mentioned the suit?”

“Barry thinks that the alien tech for the suit is primarily a sound dampener. When you turned it on,” She sighed “I couldn’t hear you anymore.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t hear me?” She swallowed and stared at the floor. Here came the fun part. 

“Your heartbeat, I couldn’t hear it anymore.” She glanced up at her friend, but he remained silent. “I check on you. During a battle, when you haven’t checked in, when the Joker escapes,” she pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, “when I can’t sleep.”

“You were in Gotham?” His tone is reproachful, she knows he hates it when she comes into his city unannounced. 

“No, I just. I know your heartbeat. I know everyone’s heartbeat.” She gestured around the room. “I can find any of them from the other side of the planet.” She mumbled. 

“Dude, that is a huge violation of privacy. Do you only listen to his?” Dick said around a mouthful of cereal.

“No, I check on all of you every day.” She shrank even more into the couch.

“Uh, you don’t hear other things, do you?” Tim stared at her in mild horror. She knew he was talking about his activities with Kon. 

“No, I only focus on heartbeats.” She had learned the hard way to tune out other noises after checking on her parents at the wrong moment. 

“Why?” Bruce’s voice was harsh. She flinched, she knew she deserved it for spying on a man who valued his privacy. 

“It helps me sleep. I hear every Rao awful thing that happens on this planet. Everything I can’t stop. And I wonder if any of it is happening to my friends or family. So, I check. And I check. And I check. But I never know if something will happen. Is going to happen.” She felt sick.

“When did you start this?” Bruce’s voice was cold. 

“After Jason died.” Her voice cracked. She could see the boy fumble his knife as his attention shifted to her. “I’m sorry.” She turned to look at him. “I could have saved you if I had paid attention.”

“You were on a different planet at the time.” Alfred chimed in for the first time since the interrogation started. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered, not if I concentrated hard enough.” She could feel Bruce tense even more. She hadn’t lied about how strong her powers were, but she hadn’t told him either. 

“Oh, Bullshit.” All eyes turned to Jason. He glared at her. “You expect me to believe that this whole shit show is because I died? I fucking call bullshit.” He slammed his hand down on the coffee table.

“Master Jason that is enough.” Alfred’s tone was sharp as he looked disapprovingly at the boy. “Your death was hard on everyone.”

“You don’t say?” Jason snarled sweeping open his arms to gesture at his own body.

“It wasn’t hard on me,” Damian muttered as he stole Jason’s cleaning kit. The older boy glared at the younger. 

“At least the Lazarus pit worked on me, how is your dear old psychotic grandfather again?” Jason snapped. 

“That is enough out of both of you,” Bruce growled. Damian settled back in his chair, but Jason was just getting started. 

“You don’t buy this crap, do you?” Jason stood up and stormed over to Bruce until they were nose to nose. “Everyone blames my death for all their sudden losses in judgment. You nearly broke your precious code not once, but twice. And you have the gall to say that I have a hard time letting go of my anger. You nearly killed the Joker twice and still couldn’t do the job. You are a fucking hypocrite.” Jason glared up at Bruce. “At least you got closer to finishing him off the second time.” 

“Bruce only beat up the Joker once,” Clarke said. 

“Yeah, right.” Jason snorted. “I read the report. Teeth shattered, multiple lacerations, extensive contusions, and a crowbar nearly skewering his arms.” Clarke flinched at every word. Damian stared at his father. Clarke felt ashamed. Damian had a hard enough time following his father’s teachings without thinking he was responsible for her actions. “You expect me to believe that someone else did that?” Jason was facing her now. “Do you even know what he did to that psycho’s hands? The coroner’s best guess was that someone stuck them in a hydraulic press.”

“Or that someone with super strength wrapped their hands around them and squeezed until the bones gave.” Clarke could hear the room go silent, the only sound that of Dick’s spoon clattering into his bowl. “You’re right. Our losses in judgment are our own faults. And you suffered more than any of us. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t suffer, that we didn’t grieve. I’m not an angel. I’m not a savior or a god. I was a woman who lost someone she loved in one of the worst ways possible. And I wanted him dead. But if your father decided he deserved to live, then who was I to disagree? But I was still so angry. So, when the Joker came to Metropolis with a bomb and a crowbar. I snapped.” She raised her eyes to meet Jason’s stunned gaze. “I didn’t kill him, but I wanted to. So. Badly. But I can’t be that person.” The Superlord’s version of herself flashed into her head. “Your death wasn’t an excuse, Jason. It was the reason. I am not losing you, any of you, again. Not while I’m still breathing.”

The room was silent. 

Jason fidgeted for a moment before storming out. 

“This is still a huge violation of privacy,” Bruce said.

“I know.” She replied.

Alfred left to find some cookies and tea. No one knew what to say. Dick open and closed his mouth a few times before heading out on patrol. Damian headed off to bed but his eyes strayed to her every few seconds. She didn’t know what he thought of her but she knew something had shifted in his perception. But only time would tell if it was good or bad. 

Finally, Tim marched off in search of coffee. His hand fell to her shoulder as he passed her. “I can hack any video camera on the planet.” She glanced up at him. “I don’t fully understand, but I get it.” She smiled weakly at him. His lips twitched up in return before he headed out to beg Alfred for a caffeine fix. She suspected all he was going to get was a lecture on proper sleeping habits. 

“You aren’t going to yell at me now?” She said once the silence became overwhelming. Bruce sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face before turning towards her. 

“It would be hypocritical. I didn’t yell at you after the Joker.”

“You should have.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“I know. But we both needed it. And this. I would have done it too.”

She stared dumbfounded at him. “What?”

“If I had half your powers, I would probably do worse to make sure my family was safe.” They both knew his parents would probably be alive if he had even one of her powers.

“Maybe it would have been better if you did have them.” Bruce shook his head. 

“Now who is putting who on a pedestal?” He slumped down next to her. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be furious at me?” She gazed at the shadows dancing across his face.

“I am. But I had three days to come to terms with it and I know a good safety precaution when I hear it.” His face hardened. “But we will be having a discussion about the extent of your powers.” 

She sighed but nodded. His hand came to rest on the small of her back. She leaned into his touch. The fire crackled on. His head leaned against hers. She could feel the thing between them growing stronger, but this wasn’t the night for it. 

“I paid to have your apartment fixed.” It was his nice way of telling her he needed room to brood. She smiled against his shoulder. 

“Thank you. But no more testing alien tech without warning me first.”

“When possible.” He grunted. She laughed out loud at that and it rang out in the empty room. 

She stood and stretched with a jaw-popping yawn. She hadn’t slept in three days and, while she didn’t need sleep, she was craving it now. She walked to the balcony and stepped into the chilly night air. 

“I can’t lose you.” She said.

“….” He didn’t respond. She took off and felt the world fall away. 

Her apartment was neat when she got there but the window was already open. She doubted Bruce would be so careless. She scanned the apartment before swooping through the open window. Nothing was out of place. Except that her bed and mattress had gotten a serious upgrade and she rolled her eyes at Bruce’s need for extravagance. He had spent years living like a monk but still preferred thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. She judged him for it but still moaned as she flopped down on her new back. She swept her room for changes one more time before her attention was drawn to the fresh tread of muddy combat boots on her apartment and the lone bear sitting on her bed, its twin long gone. She reached out and pulled the bear to her chest as her eyes started to water. She didn’t have a relationship with Jason anymore, but maybe this was a sign that they could have a new one. 

Her attention was snatched away from the bear by the sound of Dick calling her name. 

“Clarke, three am and I am still okay.” She sat on her bed and dozed as Dick checked in every hour. 

Finally, at 5 am another voice chimed in after Dick wished her a goodnight. 

“I can’t lose you either.”


End file.
